


Neil Armstrong and the Wicked Witch of the West

by sandymg



Series: One Small Step [3]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Asperger Syndrome, Autism, Community: spn_meanttobe, J-Squared, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandymg/pseuds/sandymg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day of the U.S. celebrating marriage equality in all states, Jared is shocked into facing his biggest fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neil Armstrong and the Wicked Witch of the West

**Author's Note:**

> This is fiction. No harm intended. No profit made.
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** This is a timestamp to One Small Step and takes place 4 years after the end of the original story.
> 
> Jared has what was known as Asperger Disorder in these stories. In 2013, the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders replaced Asperger with a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder. Note that the term Asperger was commonly used during much of Jared's life and he does identify with it and uses the term Aspie. Research for this story was done at the wonderful WrongPlanet.net website among other sources. People with ASD are as individual as snowflakes. The characteristics I gave Jared are pulled from various people and don't represent a 'typical' person with ASD because, frankly, there is no such thing. Jared is honest and humble and has turned his differences into the things that make him strong and real. His ASD does not define him, hasn't made him who he is. But it is a part of his life that he sometimes struggles with but always values. Because it's part of him. And he's learned that living with oneself is all there is.
> 
> The title of Jared's graphic novel comes from the Wrong Planet website.

**_~_ Jensen _~_**

The buzzing builds like a low swarm, not sound but vibration, pulsing through the crowd, accelerating Jensen’s heartbeat to a quick hummingbird flutter.

Hundreds of people surround him, all shapes, sizes – a gorgeous mosaic of faces glowing in expectation – a waving sea of rainbow flags flapping in the Friday morning sunshine. Some hold placards: _It’s Time_ – _Vote Love_ – _Equality_. Earlier they were chanting but now, suddenly, it’s quiet as folks frantically refresh their cell phones.

The Supreme Court steps are barricaded with police and officials. Across from them a podium stands waiting for comments on the decision. Tom squeezes his hand and Jensen smiles up at him but his friend’s attention is already elsewhere.

With his free hand, Jensen grips the marriage equality flag he’s holding and wishes again that Jared could be here with him. It’s wrong to experience this earth-shattering moment without his husband. _Husband._ His soul stirs because if this goes well then their marriage will be that much more real. It’ll be recognized in every state of the union. Even in his home state of Texas.

He thinks of his father having to acknowledge that both his sons – straight and gay – are indeed married and he swallows bitterness because even such a huge law change won’t make that happen. He knows that Josh and Brittany are somewhere at home awaiting the decision along with their mom. While back in New York, Jared is with their friend Sandy, showing nothing outwardly, but Jensen knows his husband will be shaking inside with anticipation.

Tom puts his arm around Jensen in a very uncharacteristic half hug. “Can you believe this?” his friend asks.

Jensen nods no because it still stuns him how quickly things have progressed. It’s been four years since New York passed its Marriage Equality Act. Four years since Jensen almost made the biggest mistake of his life and nearly married the man next to him just because he’d thought that nobody would ever really want him enough to be a true partner for a lifetime. He’d thought a marriage in name only would at least make a political point, and it was the best he’d ever get. Despite fighting his homophobic father’s hateful ideas for years, Jensen had been secretly harboring self-hatred that wasn’t all that different.

Until Jared.

As if reading his mind, Tom pipes in, “Clifford would wig out in a crowd this big, eh?”

It is futile at this point to get Tom to stop calling Jared some big or giant-related nickname although it still irritates Jensen every time. He supposes it’s Tom’s leftover resentment at how Jensen dumped Tom at the altar. Even if the romantic aspect of their relationship wasn’t real, the humiliation had stung his friend.

Jensen feels the urgency in the throng around him. People are pushing against him as they wiggle in place, waiting, scooting up closer, becoming a mob of one, and there is truly nowhere to go. No, Jared would not like this.

A soft sigh escapes. “This isn’t Jay’s thing.”

Tom laughs and as Jensen hears no derision he lets it go. He knows that Jared and Tom will never be friends. Tom doesn’t understand Jared’s pure heart and honesty, plus he doesn’t have the patience to deal with Jared’s idiosyncrasies.

_Call it like it is, Jensen … I’m weird._

_No. You are not. You’re different. Perfect in a perfectly imperfect way._

Jared had laughed at that.

_That makes no sense._

But Jensen had argued. _Yes it does. I wouldn’t wish anything about you to be different_.

And his beautiful then-fiancé had blushed a faint pink and remained silent as is his way when emotions become too much.

Smiling at thoughts of Jared, Jensen catches Tom’s attention once more. “Did you know there’s a tree planted on the White House grounds – a Loblolly Pine – that travelled to the moon as a seed with the crew of Apollo 14?” Tom’s eyes widen and his mouth drops slightly. Jensen can see the start of incredulous negativity but perseveres. “There were dozens of them planted all over the world. They’re called ‘Moon Trees.’”

Tom angles his head in a studious look. “I didn’t know that shit was contagious.”

Jensen frowns. “Tom …”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Heaven forbid I say anything about Saint Jolly.”

Jensen’s awareness of the crowd fades as he tries once again to call Tom out on his ridicule. “Jared’s on the spectrum for what used to be called Asperger’s – that doesn’t make him some sort of specimen. Jesus, Tom, you go ape shit if somebody says anything against the queer community but when it comes to Jared’s ASD …”

Momentarily introspective, Tom looks up as if seeking higher guidance before returning his steely blue gaze to Jensen. “You know what? You’re right. It’s not the autism. It’s just him, he rubs me the wrong way, can’t help it.”

Jensen wants to say something, defend Jared or criticize Tom’s prejudice, explain that it is hard to get to know Jared, but it’s so worth the effort. Although this is a conversation they’ve been having for four years.

And then, it happens.

A collective gasp wavers through the field of activists and spectators and media.

Tom is staring at his telephone screen but by then the screaming and elation permeating around them makes the decision obvious. “Five to four,” Tom says. “Legal in all fifty states.”

Jensen’s heart throbs in his chest and he can hardly breathe, his legs feel rubbery as he absorbs the tears, hugs, waving flags and collective joy all around him.

“Oh god,” Tom says breathless next to him. “Jen …”

It happens without warning. One minute Jensen is doing his best to not fall over or bawl or both, and the next, Tom is squeezing his ribs to the point of pain and then pressing his lips down against Jensen’s, hard, bruising, with years of frustration and hurt and pain pouring from Tom in a crushing kiss.

Two beats later Jensen snaps out of it, pushes Tom back forcefully, lips still wet and open in shock as he swipes the spit off them. Tom grins crookedly and utters, “Old habits” before turning to the person next to him and taking him into a hug as well.

Jensen feels paralyzed as the crowd jostles and hollers, a chant of ‘Love Wins’ beginning as phones take to the air to capture it all in photos. He wraps his arms around himself, dazed at the magnitude of this ruling. Expected, yet still shocking. His lips are numb from that bizarre kiss and Jensen feels the wrongness of it burn his cheeks. He can’t quite believe Tom did that. Even when they had been a sort of couple, they’d hardly ever kissed. Why in the world would Tom want to kiss him now that Jensen has been married for years?

An arm squeezes his shoulder. “Sorry, bud, got carried away.” Tom smiles, teeth gleaming in the sun. “No worries. I’ll never tell if you don’t.”

And suddenly it’s so much worse. Jensen hadn’t yet thought of whether he’d mention it to Jared or not. It is all just too much, the Supreme Court of the land has just said that he was like everyone else. That his marriage was as valid and real and special as every straight person’s marriage.

Not that he’d thought that what he and Jared share is anything less than miraculous.

Except now he’s kissed someone else. Well, been kissed by someone else, but the distinction keeps blurring in his mind.

It clicks then that he expected Jared to call him post decision. Surely he’s heard by now. Jensen takes out his phone.

“The internet’s exploding, man,” Tom says next to him, his eyes on his own small screen.

There are no missed calls and given the noise level Jensen thinks Jared knows that Jensen would never be able to hear him. It would be more practical to text. Except Jensen knows that Jared doesn’t do texting. Just not one of his things.

He sees that he has texts from his brother, Josh, and one from his mother. Other friends and coworkers. He thinks about responding to them when someone at the podium starts reading from Justice Kennedy’s decision.

“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death.

“It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization's oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right. The judgment of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. It is so ordered.”

The crowd explodes again in tears and hugs, yelps of excitement and sighs of relief. It presses on him, the full weight of history, every bullied child and secret assignation, every petrified moment of discovery and the emptiness of families lost. He hears the sobs of the tens of thousands of their brothers and sisters lost to AIDS – if only they could have lived to experience this day, this joy, this affirmation.

He swallows hard past the lump in his throat that won’t dissipate, wishing again that Jared was with him – could hug him and embody what it all really means, what it was all for.

His text lights up again. It’s from Sandy and Jensen wonders if she’s sending it on Jared’s behalf and nearly fumbles his phone because he can’t read it fast enough.

_Jay saw the Instagram._

As far as congratulations go that one seems odd but Jensen knows that there must be thousands of photos already posted of the celebrations erupting all around him – must be what she means. He glances around and realizes that he’s lost Tom to the fluttering flags and jubilation. Probably time to start working his way out, he thinks, but still takes a second to write back to Sandy.

_It’s such a happy day._

Walking is nearly impossible as he’s slapped across the back and smiled at and squeezed and prodded with every step. It’s very slow going to break through to the outskirts. On the podium he knows folks are still talking of the history made today in the solemn building rising above them.

He sneaks another look at his phone hoping that maybe Jared will text him directly.

_For some clearly more than others._

Jensen stops.

His face nearly crashes into the bushy hair of a woman in front of him. He smells her citrus shampoo and mumbles his apology into her curls. She hugs her girlfriend closer as she steps aside and he can see them murmuring to each other to be heard over the deafening din.

Keeping his elbows close to his sides he pecks out another text to Sandy.

_What’s that mean?_

Not giving her a chance to reply, he follows that immediately with another text.

_Is Jared okay?_

There’s no reason to imagine anything being wrong. He left Jared in excellent spirits telling Jensen to go be a part of history. Jared was steadfast in his belief that the Supreme Court would not vote against them, having statistical evidence to back up his claim from studying Justice Kennedy’s every gay-rights-related ruling from when he first joined the bench. According to Jared, this one was in the bag.

His phone gets many more texts but none from Sandy or Jared, and Jensen continues to work his way out of the crowd. He turns left and makes his way toward East Capitol where he hopes to catch a taxi to his hotel near Union Station. The excitement in his gut is churning into something sour and he’s anxious to get somewhere quiet so he can finally call Jared.

It’s still too busy to hail a taxi and so he starts walking in the hopes that he’ll catch a ride shortly. Dialing Jared gets him only voicemail and he leaves a short message asking Jared to please call him back.

He tries Sandy instead. She answers on the third ring, voice sharp with anger. “What the hell, Jensen?!”

“San?”

“How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“That wasn’t you and Tom lip locked all over like two hundred Instagram accounts? Not to mention turning Twitter into a gossip frenzy?”

Blood drains from his face and he brings his fingers to his mouth. She can’t mean … but she does. Of course she does. Because the only thing more ubiquitous than rainbow flags in front of those steps were clicking iPhones.

“Sandy … it’s not—“

“Did you kiss him?”

Jensen feels like the air has thickened to glue. “No … I mean, he … he kissed me.”

“Someone Vined it and it sure looks like both of you are doing the kissing.”

Oh God. It’s on the internet? On a loop?

“Jared … is he …?”

Sandy sighs. “Jay said he was fine. But he left … said he needed to be home. Practically ran out of here.”

“He’s not answering his phone.” Jensen feels sick, his stomach roils. His husband can be nuanced about many things, but others he’s very black and white. Cheating is clearly defined and … oh God, this is so bad.

A red and gray taxi nears and Jensen flags it down. Fingers shaking, he searches for his name in various social media. It’s the first thing that comes up – he and Tom with Tom’s arms around him, Jensen’s own hand on Tom’s chest, heads tilted in what appears to be a serious kiss. He swallows hard. But … it wasn’t like that. Tom pulled him into it so quickly that Jensen hadn’t had time to think, his lips weren’t open in passion, but rather in surprise. They hadn’t touched each other since even before the wedding that wasn’t. And certainly never since Jensen had married Jared.

His fingers flicker over more sites. The Vine loop is the worst as it takes the second and stretches it to seem like minutes. He shuts his eyes and tries to imagine himself in Jared’s place. What would Jensen think if he saw Jared kissing another man like that? That’s all it takes to stab Jensen as surely as someone had skewered him clear through his sternum. He darkens his phone for the remainder of the ride.

As soon as he enters his hotel room, he sends a text to Tom.

_Heading home ASAP. That kiss went viral, you asshole._

He’s throwing the last of his things in the suitcase when Tom replies.

_Was just in the moment. Tell Clifford to chill._

The _Fuck You_ he sends in reply is not nearly harsh enough to express the rage he’s feeling toward his once friend. It’s not so much what happened but Tom’s blatant disregard to how Jared might feel about it. He honestly feels that if he sees Tom again, he’ll punch his lights out.

He’s tried Jared’s phone repeatedly to no avail. Finally he texts Sandy that he’s heading home as soon as possible and to please take care of Jared.

It’s not until some ninety minutes later as the Amtrak train is pulling out of the station that he hears from Sandy again.

“Jay’s not letting me in,” Sandy says, sounding unhappy. “Says he’s fine but wants to be alone.”

Jensen knows that’s not unlike Jay if something is upsetting him. Frankly, it would be out of character for Jared to reach out to anyone when he’s emotionally distraught.

“San, it didn’t mean anything. Tom just … I don’t know why he did it. But I was surprised for a second before pushing him away. That loop makes it seem much longer.”

There’s a prolonged silence and then Sandy says, “I get it. A lot of posters think it was nothing but a publicity stunt anyway. Was it?” she asks.

“I don’t know. He said it just happened.” But this is Tom and Jensen knows how much he loves attention. Smacking one on his former runaway groom on the day marriage is made legal everywhere does sound like something he’d plan.

Not that Jensen wants to know but he has to ask. “What did Jared say?”

“Well, he got pale and his eyes started darting side to side like he does sometimes.” Sandy pauses to take a breath and Jensen pictures her tucking her long hair behind one ear. “He handed me his phone and that’s when I saw … well, you know. And I didn’t know what to say after that.”

“Did Jay say anything?”

“No. He started to rock at first. Then he got up and disappeared into my bathroom for a while. I was about to knock when he came out and said he needed to be home. I told him no, told him to stay and that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He said he knew that.” Sandy stops again and Jensen squeezes the phone willing her to continue. “His eyes got that far away look, you know what I mean. At the door he mumbled something about Neil Armstrong and … Margaret Hamilton, I think, but I didn’t understand and he was gone before I could get any more out of him.”

Jensen’s heart is somewhere near his knees now. Jared’s Asperger’s is so a part of him that Jensen barely even remembers it these days. But when Jared’s very upset, when something hits him hard emotionally, he shuts down and lets his Aspie out, as he phrases it. Sandy described it to a tee.

“I understand Neil Armstrong,” Sandy says. “But didn’t Margaret Hamilton play the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. He feels like rocking himself. Anything to move the train along faster. He feels impotent sitting here while Jared is hurting. “Sandy, are you still by our place?”

“Right outside.”

Jensen sighs. “Go on home. I’ll be there in a few hours and I’ll call you later. If Jay needs you he’ll call.”

Sandy argues, “No, he won’t, you know that.” Her voice pitches high, agitated. “Maybe he’ll call you. You’re his anchor.”

“Right,” Jensen says bitterly. Jared has called him that, has told Jensen that he keeps Jared tethered to the world, to the planet, keeps him from feeling alone.

He slips his phone back in his pocket and slinks down low in the seat. The vibration of the train matches the stutters of his heart. He tilts his head into the cool window pane and suppresses the sob fighting to escape. The only thing worse than knowing Jared is hurting is knowing that he’s the reason that Jared is in pain.

**~ Jared ~**

He doesn’t like laughing at his husband but honestly, sometimes, Jensen is just ridiculous. It’s late on Thursday and they are on the phone and Jensen continues to be worried about this decision when Jared already told him that there is nothing to worry about. Jared knows that Kennedy will be the swing vote they need.

“You can’t know that definitively,” Jensen argues.

“I can. Kennedy has written every major decision on gay rights since 1996. Just two years ago, DOMA was struck down because of him.”

“Doesn’t mean …”

Jared sighs. “Jen, if they release the decision tomorrow, then trust me … it’ll be good. It’ll go in our favor.” Jared really hopes that tomorrow is the day, although not exactly for the same reasons as others. He knows that with Pride events scheduled that weekend in New York City, there’s an overwhelming hope for the good news to precede that.

What Jared really wants is for Jensen to come home. It’s funny how he’s gotten so used to living with Jensen that he finds his safe home space feels odd when Jensen is away. Wasn’t always that way, of course. At first, Jared had to up every one of his neurotypical-fooling tricks to not let his frustration show. Jensen has a way of disturbing things. Jared knows that most people would consider Jensen neat, but not Jared. It’s weird to care so much about where something belongs. He knows that. But he can’t help it, and telling himself to stop it does nothing.

One of their early days together, Jared agreed to let Jensen wash the dishes, but Jensen put them in the drainer to dry all wrong. The forks were in the wrong spot and mixed up with other cutlery and the dishes weren’t in the proper order and it was all a mess. His head began spinning with _wrong wrong wrong_ and he got too loud, he knew that, he knows when he scares Jensen. It’s awful to watch Jensen’s face in those moments, his eyes big and his skin flushing as if his blood wants to escape and it hurts Jared, but the dishes also couldn’t stay all wrong so he frantically removed them from the drainer to make it right. But Jensen tried to help and Jared shoved him away and Jensen went flying backward and crashed into the table.

There’s no doubt that Jared will forever hear the thud Jensen made as his elbow struck hard against the wooden surface. It reverberated and Jared dropped the plate he was holding and it shattered into shards. His momma’s china, which he was always so careful when he washed because if you drop it you can hurt yourself and Poppa did exactly that once shortly after momma was gone and there’d been blood and Jared spent hours scrubbing the spot and then trying to put the dish back together until his poppa told him, _Stop, son, please. We can replace it._

Jared doesn’t recall everything that happened after Jensen had gone barreling into the table. He’s aware he’d had what his parents referred to as an episode. He’d yelled at Jensen that it wasn’t replaceable and Poppa lied and it was discontinued just like his momma. And it wasn’t until much later, when he’d been rocking slowly for what might have been hours did Jared notice that Jensen was holding his elbow and the realization that Jensen was hurt, that Jared had caused it, started things up again and by the time it settled Jensen looked like someone ran him through the washing machine’s heavy duty cycle.

There’d been crying and Jensen promising over and over that he was fine, that it was just a bruise, that he knew Jared didn’t mean it, that he didn’t blame Jared. After that rules were set down … Jensen would follow Jared’s way of keeping things around the house and would stay away from Jared if he got upset. Jared couldn’t be comforted the way NTs liked – constraining him or trying to hug him only made it worse.

And Jensen had proved Jared’s father wrong by tracking down a used set of dishes in his momma’s pattern on eBay, and, boy, did he look proud when he opened the box and triumphantly lifted one out to show Jared.

It has been three nights since Jensen left for Washington, DC with Tom and his fellow activist friends. But it feels much longer.

“Jay … Jay, you there?”

Jared startles back to the present and wonders how long Jensen’s been calling his name. “Yes, sorry.” He blurts out the truth because it’s all he knows. “I miss you a lot.”

“Oh, baby, I miss you, too. So much. I wish—“ Jensen stops himself but Jared knows what he wanted to say. It twists Jared’s insides because, again, he’s so stupid, he can’t accompany his husband to the biggest event of their lifetime.

Jensen immediately argues and Jared knows that he mumbled more of that aloud than he should have. “No, it’s fine. I understand. This is important but so are you. Your book sequel, it’s all anyone I see talks about. What you’ve done matters just as much, you’re making a difference one person at a time.”

Jared followed up his autobiographical graphic novel, _The Wrong Planet_ with its sequel, _The New Planet_. It took Jared longer to complete than he’d imagined, but it’s been out now for several months. The nearly four years of work were worth it, though, as he knows his soul is on those pages. He _is_ proud of his work.

He can hear Jensen’s smile when Jared says that out loud. “Good. It’s saved lives, Jared. Be proud of that. Be proud of yourself.” Jared’s throat tightens at Jensen’s words. He desperately wants to feel his husband’s arms around him. Jensen must sense how he feels. “Hey, it’s okay to miss each other. I’d worry if we didn’t. But we can talk … text if you want.” Before Jared can remind Jensen again that he likely won’t be texting, Jensen adds, “Or not. It’s fine. We can talk. I love hearing your voice. I’ll be home soon.”

Jared nods even though he knows Jensen can’t see him. He knows that Jensen would Skype but Jared misses him too much if he sees him far away. This has come up before when Jensen has travelled for work or for gay rights events. Always an activist, Jensen has been fiercely working for the cause of marriage equality since their own wedding. _So everyone has the right to have what we do_ , he explained once.

Jared glances at the clock and sees it’s well past midnight, technically already Friday. Jared keeps to a schedule and while he’s eased up a lot since marrying Jensen, well, he has an absolute latest cutoff for going to sleep on weeknights. And it’s approaching.

“I have to go to bed,” he says in a way he knows will not broach disagreement.

“I know. Good night. I love you.”

“I miss kissing you goodnight,” Jared says, uncharacteristically emotional. It’s never Jared that lingers on these occasions. He can sense Jensen’s surprise.

“I miss kissing you, too,” Jensen chuckles deeply. “Among other things.”

Now Jared really has to go, the minute hand just ticked again and it’s starting to make Jared’s belly feel like a snake was let loose in it.

Jensen repeats a soft, “I love you.”

“Me, too.” Jared disconnects swiftly. He flips his reading light off and is breathing steadily into his pillow, but his hand drifts into the empty space beside him and he can’t help the soft plaintive sigh that escapes.

~~

The phone alerts beep at Jared at strobe-like speed. He is smiling at Sandy who has tears in her eyes as she watches the breaking news on the television screen.

“I told you so,” he teases Sandy. She, too, had seemed worried about the outcome. He doesn’t understand NTs, they seem to ignore probabilities yet that’s one of Jared’s favorite things. Why not alleviate stress by knowing your odds?

The image switches to the cheering crowd in front of the Supreme Court building. He knows it’s too crowded to spot Jensen but he can’t help wish that a camera would zoom into his husband’s beautiful face. He misses Jensen like a physical ache. Overwhelmed, he walks to the kitchen for a drink of water to loosen the knot in his throat.

He brings one for Sandy as well and they listen to the last parts of Kennedy’s ruling being recited. As he imagines Jensen hearing those same words he has to rub his eyes with his knuckles. Sandy laughs through her choked emotions and looks up at him. “Hug?” she asks.

There are few people he allows to touch him in that manner but his best friend, Sandy, is one of them. Even so, he appreciates her always asking first. He swallows her small body up in his arms. He thinks he could wrap his long arms around her twice if he had that kind of flexibility. His laugh escapes into the top of her head.

“I just … it’s so wonderful,” Sandy exclaims.

“I expected it,” Jared replies. “This ruling,” he elaborates. “But … I admit I didn’t anticipate it a few years ago. Even when marriage equality passed in New York, I thought we’d have to slog through state by state and I thought it would take a long time.”

Sandy pulls back and beams at Jared. “No matter where you are, you and Jensen will be recognized as a married couple. Think of it, Jay, you could live anywhere.”

Jared stiffens. “What do you mean? We live here.” He waves his arms. “I mean, not here, not your apartment. But my … our place.”

Very gently Sandy lifts his hand toward her chest and squeezes before letting go. “I know that. And Jensen loves living there with you. His heart is here, in New York. No worries. But if you travel together … it’s just so much safer this way should, God forbid, anything happen to either of you.”

She lowers the volume on the TV and picks up her cell phone. “Twitter must be crazy,” she says, flicking her thumb over the screen.

Jared goes for his own phone. The alerts continue nonstop. He thinks he should text Jensen, he’d probably really be happy if Jared did that. Later, they’ll hopefully get to talk, although Jared anticipates there will be some major celebrating going on. He doesn’t begrudge Jensen this. It’s not his husband’s fault that Jared is socially inept and can’t join in those things.

Before opening his text app he goes to Instagram to see if Jensen maybe posted a photo. The first seven photos he comes across are all the same, although taken from various angles.

It’s Jensen and Tom kissing.

Jared stares and flicks through the images. They don’t change, don’t miraculously become something else. Don’t dissolve into two other men expressing their devotion during a highly emotional and charged event. His eyes flicker as he scrolls.

His husband and the man he almost married. Embracing. _Kissing_.

The neural connections in his brain short circuit and his thoughts spiral like the curves of the Milky Way. Someone hit a reset button on the world. He sees them standing there like well-dressed Ken dolls, declaring their love. He hears Tom say _I do_ and then Jensen says it and then they kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss and Jared can only stare and a small part of him yells that it didn’t go that way, that Jensen chose _him_ , but then he sees Jensen kissing Tom again and he shudders as if an electric current is racing through his veins. He can’t speak, just vibrates helplessly with the tremor that starts in his hand and races through his limbs.

“Jared! What is it? What’s wrong?”

With every ounce of willpower he has, he stretches his arm out toward Sandy, gripping the phone tight and aiming the screen at her.

She gasps.

Jared drops the phone and stands and hears himself say something unintelligible as he runs swiftly to the bathroom. There’s bile in the toilet so maybe he vomited but he doesn’t remember and then he’s washing his face, rocking front and back and he can’t be here. He needs to be home. Home. Now.

“I have to go home,” he utters. He’s back in Sandy’s living room and he needs to get out.

“Jay, stop, please. Wait. Take your cell, don’t leave it here.”

He tucks the thing into his pocket and swears it burns like a lit cigarette.

“I’m sure it’s not what it looks like,” Sandy pleads. “You have to wait until you can talk to Jensen. There’s got to be an explanation.”

Jared knows there’s an explanation. Of course there is. He’s feared this truth for years and this is just the evidence he’s refused to let himself absorb. After all, Tom is Neil Armstrong and Jared is Margaret Hamilton.

**~ Jensen ~**

He lingers in the corridor outside the apartment door so long that there’s a good chance his slightly senile neighbor is going to call the police and report someone loitering. Running his hand once more through his disheveled hair, he twirls his keys with a mindless jingle. He’d rung the doorbell several minutes ago because he knew Jared would not appreciate being surprised that Jensen had come home unannounced. Even without the clusterfuck of the photograph, Jared doesn’t like his routine upended.

Nobody comes to the door and Jensen doesn’t know what that means.

Of course, Jared might not be home. He is an adult and could go anywhere in the city. Except that’s not what Jensen really believes. What he fears is that Jared doesn’t want to see him, that he is so angry, disappointed, sad, betrayed, that he wants Jensen to stay away longer. The edges of the keys dig into his palm, leaving a mark, and Jensen wonders if he should go to Sandy’s first … ask her again exactly what Jared said and did.

That’s when the apartment door opens and Jared peeks out, expression stiff and eyes shuttered.

“J-Jay,” Jensen stutters uselessly.

Jared says nothing but holds the door open and Jensen takes it for the invitation that it implies.

He enters slowly, remembering the very first time he visited Jared, bringing with him a twelve-part miniseries about the Apollo program. Tracing the same steps, he stops again in front of the Earthrise print, still hanging in prominence in what is now _their_ living room. Once this was just a beautiful photograph. Now it has come to mean so much more. The photo represented Jared’s view of the world for so long, an outsider looking down on the blue marble, never feeling quite a part of the humanity that inhabits it.

The cover drawing of Jared’s first graphic novel featured a similar image, small and alone and foreign. An entity to be viewed from afar. The sequel, however, is so very different. Jay, the main character, is situated in the middle of Times Square, with an explosion of life around him. He’s not quite blending yet, the bubble of his spacecraft protects him from the cacophony of sound and touch and light that geysers from that central spot. But he’s there. He’s landed. He’s allowed it to surround him.

Jensen pulls his eyes away from Earthrise to seek out Jared. He spots him near the window, eyes facing outward but Jensen knows the only things his husband sees right now are his own thoughts.

Jensen is afraid of what they might be.

It takes all his self-control not to pull Jared into his arms and hug and kiss him and show him that the picture with Tom means nothing, that he’s missed Jared with all his soul. Instead, he approaches slowly, as one might a timid child.

“Jay?” he questions very gently.

In typical fashion Jared surprises Jensen because there is nothing like timidity in the glare he receives when Jared’s eyes sharply dart to his.

“Jensen.” Jared’s lips narrow and his voice is so carefully controlled that Jensen just about doesn’t recognize it. He turns fully so he faces Jensen directly, eyes locked and certain. “I have a meeting.”

“What?” Jensen asks stupidly.

Jared glances down at his wristwatch. “In one hour with Mr. Thomson.”

Thomson is one of the foundation attorneys. Jared meets with him periodically. He was a friend to Jared’s parents back in the day. Jared’s known him all his life.

“Okay,” Jensen says because he doesn’t know what else to possibly say to that.

He watches Jared turn back around to gaze out the window and wonders if he’s supposed to stay silent for the next forty minutes until Jared leaves for the attorney’s office. He knows Jared is different and sometimes needs to tackle things in his own way but this is getting ridiculous. Jensen counts, too.

“Jay. I know you saw that photograph.”

Nothing. Not even a twitch to acknowledge Jensen’s words.

“I can explain it, if you are willing to listen.”

Still facing the window, Jared’s voice is as steady as a flat stretch of highway. “I’m not the inexperienced virgin you married. I know what a kiss is.”

Jensen can’t help the frustration from his own voice. “I know you do. But … it wasn’t … he kissed me. I didn’t expect it.”

With ongoing calmness Jared continues, “I think you made a mistake.”

“Yes. I can see how you think that. Although really it was Tom’s mistake. I was just surprised, I don’t know why he—“

“It’s not too late to undo it. It’s like you said once … not everyone is like my parents.”

Jensen is confused and he hates having this conversation with the back of Jared’s head and has no idea what Jared’s parents have to do with any of this. “Please face me when you talk to me.”

It’s not often he directs Jared to act in an NT way but he can’t continue like this.

Several long seconds later, Jared turns around. His expression is flat and unreadable but his eyes … they are no longer harsh like they’d been a few minutes earlier. Now, Jensen sees weariness or, worse, surrender. “You made a mistake,” Jared repeats.

Jensen nods. “I’m sorry, but I explained ...”

“We can fix it.”

That gets Jensen’s attention because what he wants above all is to make this up to Jared and finally get to hug his husband because his body is starting to ache from not touching.

“Yeah. I want that. What can I do?”

Jared looks down and tugs at the bottom of his tee-shirt. He’s wearing a snug shirt, jeans and no socks and it’s everything Jensen can do to keep his hands to himself. The slightest of hitches catches Jared’s voice. “I’ll take care of it. Mr. Thomson primarily handles family law, he helps the foundation on the side.”

Something cold and sharp claws into Jensen’s chest. “Jay … what are you …?”

“I researched and, well, there’s nothing exactly like our situation, of course. Although I do think it must come up rather often. I mean, people make mistakes all the time. I think they should have a ‘changed my mind’ clause. That would make sense. But the closest New York offers is called ‘irretrievable breakdown.’ But that has to take place over six months. On some websites it says we can backdate it but that’s lying and I can’t do that. So we can start with a sep—“

“Jared, stop!”

Jensen rarely ever yells and Jared does silence instantly, taking a step backward and shrinking into himself slightly. Normally this would make Jensen feel bad but his heart is hammering so hard it’s blocking out everything else. “Are you … it sounds like you’re talking about a divorce.”

It hurts that Jared is using one of his NT-emulating techniques, looking at Jensen’s forehead rather than his eyes, even though Jensen realizes that Jared is doing it to meet Jensen on even ground.

Jared nods once sharply.

“Because I kissed Tom?” Jensen asks incredulously.

“You said, Tom kissed you,” Jared replies and Jensen doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or rage. Anger starts to beat out the other emotions.

“He _did_ kiss me – the asshole – said it just happened because of the excitement of the decision. Maybe that’s true. Or maybe he wanted his mug everywhere and that was a cheap way to get there.” Jensen runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Either way, if you think I’m letting that ruin our relationship, you’re insane.”

Jared doesn’t say anything but looks at his watch again and twitches visibly. He walks into the bedroom and comes back both with sneakers on and a book in his hand. It’s large and looks like one of his mother’s scrapbooks. “I don’t know why I never showed you this before.” He stops and his mouth twists. “No. That’s not so. I do know why.”

Jensen accepts the book. He’s never known Jared to keep anything from him. “Jay, please …” Jensen begs but Jared is already heading toward the door.

“Look at it and then you’ll see that you made a mistake. It’s okay. I don’t blame you. I … understand. I can’t live a lie though.”

“I’ve never lied … Jesus, how can you …?”

The door shutting gently behind Jared sounds like the click of a coffin lid. On legs that can’t support him any longer, Jensen staggers brokenly to the sofa still clutching the oversized scrapbook. If anything has answers to whatever strange path Jared’s thoughts have taken, it must be here.

Right now absolutely nothing makes sense. He’d expected Jared to be mad, hurt. He knew he’d have to explain and make it right. In a million years he hadn’t expected Jared to be speaking to a lawyer about divorce. This can’t be happening. Just hours ago he was euphoric that marriage equality – _their marriage_ – was the law of the land. His lungs contract as if someone is squeezing them and his heart has forgotten how to beat. It’s suffocating and he sees white spots before he instinctively leans down, chest hitting the stiff leather book binding.

Eyes shut, he draws a breath back through his nose, slowly expanding his chest. One breath. Two. He’s talked Jared through his severe anxiety, when he had to use a strange bathroom or walk through an unknown doorway. Jensen’s thoughts are all over, remembering other fights and how they are almost always his fault but Jared forgives him. Always. What’s different? He knows that Jared believes him when he said Tom kissed him and not the other way around. Jared doesn’t lie and their relationship is built on truth.

With trembling fingers he opens the scrapbook. He blinks to understand because the book is filled with newspaper clippings … articles, profiles, stories printed from the internet. Staring dumbly is all Jensen’s capable of because the key person appearing in all of these is Tom.

The book is a chronicle of Tom’s work in gay rights over the years. Several pages in, he spots a mention of himself with others of Tom’s close circle. The further he gets the more he sees himself next to Tom. The entries proceed until they near the date of what would have been his wedding to Tom. The publicity was at a fever pitch as the date grew closer and there are more articles, more references. Jared has taken screen caps of Twitter mentions and Instagram photos … it’s incredible. Meticulous. Obsessive, if Jensen wants to be brutally accurate.

What does it mean that Jared was doing this? Keeping this record as one might immortalize the everyday happenings of a president or royalty? For an insane second he wonders if Jared had been crushing on Tom? If he liked Tom in a romantic way? But if that were so then it would mean Jared had been lying for years. Jensen’s entire world view is shaken by that thought. It implies he’s never known Jared, not really. Not at all.

He rejects that.

Mouth dry, Jensen puts the book down. He goes to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He gulps most of it down at once. Holding the water like it is a magic elixir that will enlighten him, Jensen returns to the book and opens it randomly, then pages rapidly, watching again as the setup to his wedding day to Tom unfolds all over social media.

It stops abruptly with a final image of himself and Tom standing before the judge. Jensen remembers that moment, how he couldn’t stop turning back to look at Jared, how the love he felt for Jared was pulsing through him like a living entity. How it spoke to him and begged him to say no to Tom, to go to Jared. He remembers the tears he shed on his brother’s shoulder as he allowed himself to believe for the first time that Jared loving him meant he was more worthy than a sham marriage, how it meant his life’s purpose didn’t have to be about proving himself loveable. How he was already loved.

Only now there is this scrapbook. Some sort of ode to Tom. If he didn’t know better, by the look of the scrapbook, Jensen and Tom would be living happily ever after now. There is not one crumb of what came next. Nothing about the publicity vomit fest that followed Jensen’s running out on Tom at the altar.

Nothing about his marriage to Jared.

It’s like he and Jared don’t even exist.

Jensen swipes his eyes madly and thinks he should care about ruining something of Jared’s with snot and tears but at this moment he can’t really give a crap.

The doorbell rings and Jensen jumps up, book flying from his lap. He’s swinging the door open and calling Jared’s name before his mind can process that Jared always uses his key and isn’t one to ring doorbells.

Which explains why the man at the door is most definitely not Jared.

The grip on the door frame is the only thing keeping Jensen up as a deep voice tentatively asks, “Can I come in, son?”

**~ Jared ~**

There has never been a time in Jared’s life when Amal Thomson has not been a presence. Jared’s earliest memories include the slight man with the rectangular, black-rimmed glasses. His grandmother met Mr. Thomson through a fundraising event, the story goes, and he became friends with Poppa even before he’d met Jared’s mother.

His parents and Mr. Thomson had seen each other only occasionally, but when Jared’s grandmother died and help had been needed to keep the foundation going, they’d tapped on the then-fledgling attorney and the relationship was forged.

Jared recalls as a child Mr. Thomson had asked Jared to call him Uncle Amal. And Jared had responded in his blunt way that Mr. Thomson wasn’t a brother to either of his parents and, therefore, was not his uncle. At the time, the grown-ups had smiled and explained that family didn’t always have to be biologically related. Jared couldn’t understand that and never called Mr. Thomson anything other than Mr. Thomson.

As Jared approaches the man’s office he realizes he does understand it now. He thinks of Sandy, who is very much a sister to him. He thinks of Jensen, who is everything to him. Swallowing hard he twists the door knob and enters, eyes quickly sweeping over the familiar environment. It’s a safe space. He can even use the restroom here. He’s so very grateful, because he knows he couldn’t have done this anywhere else.

Thomson is a short man, a head shorter than Jared or his poppa. The very top of his nearly shaved head reaches Jared’s collarbone at best. He’s grown a beard, a distinctive white against his dark brown skin. Jared decides it makes Mr. Thomson look younger and wonders at why that is. When Mr. Thomson puts his hand out to shake, Jared moves in closer and pulls the old family friend into a partial hug instead. The last time he’d allowed Mr. Thomson to hug him was when Poppa died and Jared doesn’t recall a time he’d ever initiated such contact.

“Jay?” the older man queries. He’s known Jared all his life, so, of course, he instantly knows something is very wrong.

Pulling away, Jared turns. His face feels hot and his throat hurts as if he’d swallowed a sharp object. “I need your help with something, Mr. Thomson.”

Stepping over to the large striped sofa along the side wall, Mr. Thomson ushers Jared to sit. He twists to face him and Jared knows that the other man’s body must be giving off a hundred clues, but Jared is too tired to try to figure it out. He trusts Mr. Thomson.

“I need to file a separation agreement from Jensen.”

Even Jared’s limited people-reading skills can see the absolute shock on the attorney’s face. He is silent a long moment. “I see,” he says at last in his strong, soothing voice. Jared’s always liked the man’s voice, it reminds him of thick molasses and chewy taffy.

Neither says anything for what normally would seem uncomfortable but Jared can deal with silence. Eventually, Mr. Thomson speaks again. “I didn’t realize you and Jensen were having any difficulties.”

“We weren’t,” Jared replies honestly.

Mr. Thomson shifts on the deep sofa and brings his hand up to scratch his beard, then adjusts his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. His palms are startlingly light compared to rest of his skin. Once when Jared was young he’d asked Mr. Thomson about that and his parents had said it was rude to bring up, but Mr. Thomson smiled and explained about melanin and how it determined one’s skin color and Jared never forgot how he hadn’t made Jared feel stupid.

“Why do you want to separate from Jensen? Are you unhappy?”

Yes, Jared thinks, he is very unhappy. He’s sad. Sadder than he thinks he’s ever felt. Sadder even than when he thought that Jensen had married Tom. The only thing close was when he lost his parents. It’s worse, he thinks, than losing his mother. He was young then and didn’t really understand the permanence of the loss. But Poppa dying, he understood that. Finding him prone on the carpet in his bedroom, arms twisted in a weird way, eyes shut, and chest so unnaturally still.

That was the worst day of his life.

This might be close.

He’s handed a tissue and realizes only then that there are tears streaking down his cheeks. There’s a literal pain in his chest, hard and punishing, as if a stone is pressing down on his heart.

Mr. Thomson is suddenly closer, a hand on his shoulder. “Jay, my boy, what is it? I would have thought you’d be delighted today, what with the historic ruling. What happened?”

Jared takes his phone out of his pocket and flicks it on. The distressing Instagram photo immediately opens and he hands the phone to Mr. Thomson. He studies Mr. Thomson eyeing the photo. The older man looks at Jared and sighs heavily. “Did you talk to Jensen yet about this?”

“Yes. He said Tom kissed him. Said it was spur of the moment.”

“Do you not believe him?”

“I do. Jensen doesn’t lie.”

He’s squeezed once on the shoulder before Mr. Thomson retreats and strokes his beard again. “Jared. I know you took your wedding vows very seriously. And I can see how this seems like they’ve been broken. But if you do believe Jensen that there is nothing really going on between himself and Tom, then don’t you think that a separation is maybe a little rash?”

“It’s not the kiss,” Jared says. “I mean, it’s not the _kissing_ part of the kiss … Mr. Thomson, can you please just draw up the papers? I don’t want to explain. It’s too … it’s personal.”

“I’ll help you, you know I will. But I’m not just your lawyer, I’m your friend. With your father gone, I feel like … he wouldn’t want you to do something so drastic without very good reasons. Has Jensen been hurting you in some way? Has he hit you? Are there things happening that are dangerous to you?”

Jared blanches. “No! Of course not. Jensen would never hit me. Ever. He’s not like that. He’s … he’s the best man I ever met. I just ... it’s not about him. It’s about me.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it, just wants the document so they can start their six months apart and then … then … with a swipe of the pen it’ll end, separate them forever. And Jensen can be with the right kind of man. Someone who is there to kiss him when the best news happens. A hero during heroic times – up front and center and _there_.

His breath quickens and it feels like a takeoff, like he’s leaving it all behind, the room, the city, the planet. It’ll be like before, when he was living among them but not part of them. The loneliness is all consuming, trapping him in an opaque bubble that shuts everything out, like sunglasses dimming even the brightest sunshine. But there’s no other way, it has to be like that.

Like Neil and Margaret. Orbiting forever but not intersecting.

Mr. Thomson is talking. “Once, when you were young, your parents got in a terrible fight. I couldn’t even tell you now what it was all about, but your dad burst into my office and asked if Sherri was drawing up papers. Because if she was, then he wanted them, too. Wanted me to represent him, not her.”

Jared faces his friend and his mouth drops. He didn’t know that, can’t even imagine his parents not being together, they were like one unit in his mind. “Was she?” Jared asks, voice low and small.

“That’s not the point, Jay,” Mr. Thomson says in his rich bass voice. “Your father didn’t want her to be the one to end it first. Said he couldn’t stand that. I believe he feared losing control.” He pauses and waits until Jared looks at him. “Now, you know a little something about control.” It isn’t quite said with a chuckle but Jared understands the irony.

“You think that I think that he’s leaving me. That the only reason I asked for the separation papers is to do it first, like my poppa?”

Mr. Thomson says nothing. Jared feels upended, like a body cartwheeling untethered through space. What’s the right thing to do? Didn’t that photograph prove Jared’s greatest fear to be correct? But … but he and Jensen, the life they’ve created, the thousands of laughs and touches and, god, the sex. Before, he didn’t know. Once you do, once you’ve had that and the safety, the love ... How do you do without?

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits to his friend.

“Shall I tell you what I told your father?”

Jared nods yes, because Poppa was the smartest man he knew, as smart as Jensen and this might be the closest to speaking with him again he’ll ever get.

“I told him to go home and speak with Sherri and not stop talking until they worked their shit out.” He laughs. “Pardon my language.”

“What if … after we talk, I still end up here, asking for the same thing?”

Mr. Thomson stands and looks down at Jared. “Then I’ll help you. There’s no need for me to tell you to be honest with him because that’s who you are. But Jared … some truths aren’t absolute.”

“It’s true or it’s not real,” Jared says, quoting his poppa.

“Well then, if it’s real … you’ll also know it’s true.”

“I’m scared,” Jared admits, stomach jumpy as if several hamsters were loose in it.

“Real things are often scary. Especially if they make us think of something in a way we never did before. Remember what you wrote in your book – the best way to deal with humans is to try to evolve with them. Well, truth can sometimes evolve as well. The events of today prove that more than anything. As recently as last year I could not have predicted that same-sex marriage would be legal in all states.”

Jared has been trying to handle fear all his life, wanted to be more like the heroes that managed to overcome it every time. “Ed White, before … before the fire that killed him. He was the first American to walk in space. Of course, it’s not really walking because there’s no ground. It’s floating or flying. But imagine only a cord holding onto you and the world beneath you spinning and there’s nothing but you and the cord and the spaceship and the other astronaut.

“He didn’t want the space walk to end. James McDivitt, the commander, was joking with him to come back in. They were kibitzing back and forth. And in the end, White said, ‘I’m coming back in … and it’s the saddest moment of my life.’ I could never understand that. I mean, he did this amazing thing, he was a hero. I never understood how he could be sad.”

Mr. Thomson slowly eases Jared up. “Go home, Jared.”

**~ Jensen ~**

“Dad?!”

Okay, Jensen’s gone off the deep end and he’s now hallucinating because his father cannot be in New York standing in his doorway. Not after almost twenty years of silence. Not after saying Jensen was no longer his son.

Maybe it is all one giant delusion? The Supreme Court legalizing marriage in all fifty states? It’s crazy. Didn’t happen. None of it happened. Tom didn’t kiss the man that left him at the altar and Jared isn’t talking about divorce because how could they have gotten married in the first place? Nobody wants gay people married. They all think like the apparition in front of him, that gays are immoral, sick, wrong.

Abomination.

It’s not the last word his father ever spoke to him. But it’s the one that rings the loudest.

“I told your mother this was a mistake. Forget it.”

The man is walking away and Jensen finally inhales a deep enough breath to allow speech. “Wait.”

Alan turns around slowly. He’s aged, creases like cracked glass at the sides of his eyes and a furrow so deep in his frown line it looks like it’s carved. His hair is thin but not gray. He colors his hair, Jensen thinks, Grecian Formula most likely. An absurd chuckle fights to escape and he forces it down.

Unsure of why he is doing it, he motions with one arm for Alan to enter.

His father walks around the bend of the small vestibule entryway and stops short. Jensen can see him looking around, eyes not stopping too long in any one place. “Nice photo,” he utters, pointing to Earthrise.

That photo is so much more than _nice_ to Jared that to Jensen it’s the Mona Lisa and the Sistine Chapel combined. But he doesn’t argue or reply. Jared – whom Jensen hurt so badly that even now he is speaking to a lawyer about divorce. A notion that Jensen can’t even contemplate without immediately wanting to vomit and choke on it till he stops breathing, not necessarily in that order.

But Jensen’s very long-lost father is standing in his living room.

“Dad,” Jensen repeats because if the man answers then maybe there can be a point to this extended hallucination. Or better yet, maybe he can awaken from the nightmare and curl into Jared and tell him all about it and Jared can tease him with those soft snickers that manage to be more sexy than insulting.

“Hi, son,” Alan says.

Jensen blinks because, what? Why is his father here? “Is Mom in town, too?”

“No, she said I had to do this on my own. And, she’s right.” Alan turns his head toward the sofa. “Mind if I sit? Been walking around the city most of the day.”

Sure, apparition, take the load off. Why not? Makes as much sense as the notion of Alan Ackles traipsing around Manhattan all day. A thought stops his heart cold. “Were you here before? Before I got back? Did you speak with Jared?!”

Alan looks confused for a moment before shaking his head no. “Jared? Is that your … husband?”

His father’s thick Texan accent pronounces it ‘Jayred’ and Jensen imagines Jared’s reaction to that. He can practically see the sexy smirk now.

“Yes,” Jensen replies. Assuming Jared ever forgives him. Which reminds Jensen that he has so many more important things to concern him than the stranger sitting in his living room. He twists his lips in impatience and is about to ask what the hell Alan wants when his father speaks up.

“Maybe you can sit, too, son?”

Anger flares, sharp and hot.

“Stop calling me that. You lost that right the day you moved out saying I was an abomination you couldn’t live with!”

To his credit, Alan looks contrite. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was wrong of me. Jensen, I know it’s been a long time. And God bless her, your mother’s been trying for years. I just … believed you were goin’ to hell and it just … it was awful thinkin’ that. You don’t have kids but if you did … And I thought for so long if you just stopped. Just didn’t do … _those_ things … then your soul could be saved.”

Jensen sneers. “Those things? Like love whom I wish? You and your ilk like to make it dirty, like it’s only about sex, but it’s not. It’s about love. Always was. God loves me just as I am. Mom understood that. Josh got it years ago. I … What are you doing here? Why today … I don’t. Jesus, I don’t understand a thing.”

He runs a hand through his hair and goes to grab himself a drink. Some vestige of politeness has him asking if his father wants one as well.

As far as days go, this one is for the books.

He pours a couple fingers of whiskey for himself and for his father even though he didn’t stick around long enough to hear the old man’s reply. He shoots it down and it lands like a heated puddle in his stomach. He can’t face his father again yet so he pours himself another. He rubs the cool surface of the countertop, black with silver specks. Jared picked out the quartz stone because he said it reminded him of space with twinkling stars and Jensen could deny Jared nothing.

It had been a huge deal remodeling Jared’s old kitchen. There were many moments Jensen thought they’d have to cancel and absorb the expense and tell the contractor to go home. Jared found change so difficult. And this was particularly poignant because it is the home he grew up in, the kitchen in which his mother prepared dinners and baked cookies and let little Jay decorate cupcakes with sparkly sugar stars.

Jensen was fine with the old cabinets and beat up counters. Told Jared over and over that it could stay that way forever. But Jared wanted the apartment to be theirs and not just Jared’s any longer. He concluded that meant things had to change. Once Jared locks his mind onto something, it is very hard to derail him.

And right now Jared has his mind on leaving Jensen.

He takes another sip of his drink, pausing to add ice to delay returning to the other room. The new refrigerator matches the white cabinets and blends seamlessly into the décor. Jensen favored stainless but Jared liked this warmer all-wood approach and said that the stainless would show prints and Jensen simply went along.

There are times that Jensen can entrench, too. Like when he’d slowly convinced Jared that it was okay to fool around in their newly remodeled kitchen. Jared griped that the new space was spotless and sex was unsanitary and Jensen had laughed at him and pointed out that they’d placed their mouths in plenty of unsanitary places before. But that only made Jared nearly sputter and tell him that was different.

_Different how?_

_Because … It …_

_Feels really, really good._

_That’s cheating, no fair._

He’d kissed Jared for many long moments, leaning up against the fridge, sucking Jared’s tongue and swallowing every moan. The ridges of the panel molding had dug into his back, but he didn’t care, he held on tighter and ground their lower bodies together until Jared let out the dirtiest of groans.

Jensen knew Jared enough to know that he’d feel too uncomfortable getting completely undressed in the kitchen but that they had plenty of time for round two later in bed and so he lifted a leg up to curve around Jared’s thigh and thrust up with a bruising force.

Jared’s hand had dug into Jensen’s backside sliding his pants downward and practically lifting him up, causing Jensen’s shoulders to slam into the hard surface, except he didn’t feel anything but the need to chase the burning rush of ecstasy until they both melted into a delicious cry. They panted into each other’s mouths as they came down and Jensen felt the vibrations of Jared’s hysterical giggles reverberate against his neck.

_What’s so funny?_

_When I said no stainless because of prints, I never meant butt prints._

The noise of the front door opening stuns Jensen into nearly dropping the glass he’s holding. He charges out of the kitchen and sees Jared gaping at Alan Ackles who must have risen when Jared entered.

“You must be Jared,” Alan says.

Jared blinks and then focuses his eyes on the Earthrise print, staring hard as if trying to make out each individual pixel. Wrapping his arms around himself Jared slowly rocks on his heels, back and forth, in a self-soothing manner. Jensen doesn’t think he’s going to stop looking at the photo for a while.

He sighs and takes the drink to his father who is staring as if Jared just lit himself on fire.

“Yes, that’s Jared. He, um, he’ll be with us shortly.” Jensen guides his father back further into the room and settles him on the couch once more, with their backs to Jared. He hands the man his drink. Alan swallows it down quickly.

Voice low, Alan says, “Your mother said he was, um, not normal. Is he retarded?”

There is not enough alcohol on the planet to get Jensen through this. “Say that word one more time, about anyone, let alone Jared, and I’ll figure out a way for you to never be allowed on the island of Manhattan again.”

The harshness of Jensen’s voice has Alan lower his eyes. “I didn’t mean nothin’ bad by … “

“Yes. You did. I’m going to say this only once. Jared is the smartest, most perfect, best person I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Now, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I’ve been reading about things. The same-sex marriage business and what folks were sayin’ about it. Last year our church got a new preacher. Old man Reynolds passed on, bless his soul. This new one was younger an’ at first most of us didn’t like him all that much. He wasn’t quite like Reynolds an’ he didn’t seem to get our ways as much. I mean, he weren’t a northerner but he spent time in a church in Austin an’, you know, he just had a different way of expressing things.”

Jensen rolls his eyes because he remembers Preacher Reynolds and his fire-and-brimstone sermons about the evils of gay sex and how the blight of homosexuality needed to be wiped off the earth to preserve humanity. Once he and Caleb made out behind the pulpit on a weeknight following Jensen’s religion class. Felt like the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the old man.

His father is still talking. “Anyway, this new man, Preacher Clarke, he starts readin’ other passages from the bible an’ after a while he’s sayin’ he don’t know if we can know God’s plan because it’s unknowable but that if God created everything then everything He created has to be good.”

His father’s hands are clasped in his lap, twisting around each other. Jensen remembers those long fingers playing the guitar, saying he’ll teach Jensen one day. It’s hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “What are you saying, Dad?”

“I didn’t think of it that way. I thought, like I said, that you were wrong and that you’d go to Hell and that just … I couldn’t stay to see that, to know I couldn’t stop it. But now … the preacher said it was like eye color, you know.”

“I was born this way,” Jensen clarifies.

Alan nods. “Yes. I think … I think that has to be so because your mother and I are good folks and we conceived you in love and so if that’s the case and nobody did anything wrong then you ... you aren’t wrong either. An’ if that’s so, then I’m the one that made the mistake.” He stops suddenly and Jensen thinks he hears a shuddery breath release as his father covers his face in his hands.

It’s too much, all of it is too much. The alcohol he chugged courses through his veins, blackening his blood, heating his face until his cheeks glow like embers. There’s a stone lodged in his throat, constricting his airways. His eyes sting and he blinks madly in an effort to keep control. He jumps up and leaps away from his father and suddenly, mercifully, arms surround him in solidity and strength and he brokenly utters, “Jared,” into his husband’s neck.

“I’m here,” Jared whispers, rocking him gently.

“God, I’m so sorry. So sorry. I didn’t want … it just happened. I’m _so_ sorry.”

“Jen. Is that your father?” Jared asks, the words a soft puff directly into his ear.

Jensen pulls back just enough to let Jared see him nod yes. Their eyes meet and Jensen sees the wonder turn Jared’s eyes especially blue. He keeps one arm around Jensen’s shoulder and straightens his spine. Jensen can see Jared psych himself up, can imagine the inner dialog of tricks playing through his mind.

Alan is closer now, face drawn and Jensen doesn’t know what to make of the concern he seems to be showing. Can’t believe his father cares, not after everything. He keeps waiting to find out why his father is really here, expects the proverbial dropping shoe.

Drawing his southern charm around himself like a cloak, Alan smiles and puts his hand out to Jared. Jensen is reminded of the hundreds of times he’s seen his father grip another man’s hand and pump it three times, in a warm greeting.

_A man’s handshake is his first impression, boy. Gotta make sure they remember you well._

Jared separates from Jensen and licks his lips, his eyes are directed straight at his father’s face and his arm extends with a slight bend at the elbow. He says, “I’m Jared …”

Jensen’s heart is thumping around in his ribcage like a trapped animal because Jared always introduces himself as Jensen’s husband and it has to mean something that he doesn’t. The two men clasp hands and Jensen watches helplessly.

Just as they part Jared adds steadily, “… Jensen’s husband.”

It’s surreal watching the two of them measure each other. Jared is pulling every trick to maintain eye contact and stand still. He can see his husband’s controlled breathing and knows the effort that’s going into every composed moment. He loves Jared so much in that instant, he thinks he might explode with it.

“I’m sorry to barge in on you two like this. I know today must be special, what with the news and all.”

“Jensen just returned from Washington, DC,” Jared says. “He was there, at the Supreme Court steps this morning when the announcement was made.”

Alan turns to Jensen, eyes wide. “You don’t say? Well, isn’t that something.”

Jensen smiles because it’s expected but he wishes he’d never gone. It was Tom’s idea of course. They’d spent three nights waiting to see if the next day brought the decision they’d been waiting for. He should have stayed in New York, with Jared. Where he belongs.

“Jensen,” Jared calls his attention. “Would you like to speak alone with your father? I can go to Sandy’s.”

“No,” Jensen says immediately. His eyes beg and he knows Jared might not see it, might not pick up but Jared has his arm around his shoulder again and Jensen fights the urge to simply pull him to their bedroom, curl up against his side and sleep until he can wake up from this nightmare of a day.

“It’s okay,” Jared murmurs to him.

“Is it?” Jensen asks.

Jared’s expression is unreadable. “We’ll talk later.”

Well, that’s not too ominous. A silent snort escapes. Jensen’s actually glad his homophobic father is here to put that off a little longer.

“I won’t stay,” Alan says into the ensuing silence. “I know you don’t put much stock in what I have to say. An’ maybe you’re right. But Preacher Clarke says you know something when you know it. And that mistakes don’t have to be forever. Especially if you do something about it.”

“That’s your plan? Listen to this new minister and fly out here and I’m supposed to, what, forget the past twenty years?! You left our family, left mom. And it was my fault. Every time I saw her red eyes I knew that if you’d just stopped having kids after Josh was born then—“

“Jen, no,” Jared interrupts. “You know that’s not true. It was his choice to leave. You were a kid. And you didn’t do anything wrong, nothing about you is at fault.”

“That’s true, son. It weren’t your fault. I always thought I was weak. But now I know better about that, too. I was just wrongheaded and too stubborn by far to let anyone tell me any different. Your mom, she tried … Joshua, too. Hell, Brittany never quit. Up till I got on the plane she was telling me what was happenin’ in DC. That man, the plaintiff she called him, just wanted his husband’s name on the death certificate. I dunno … it just … didn’t seem like too much to ask, I mean, they were together so long. An’ when I started readin’ about that and some of the other families and folks who spent fifty years waitin’ on being allowed to hitch up. Preacher said that getting married brings good things to society so why shouldn’t we want it more, not less?”

“I don’t believe in god but I think that what your preacher told you is true,” Jared says.

Alan’s lips tighten and his eyes narrow and Jensen thinks, great, now his dad can start hating on Jared’s atheism since he’s seemingly all cool with the gays now. A slightly hysterical giggle escapes.

Jared looks at him, brows drawn. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Nope, not at all. Dad, I don’t know what to say to your enlightenment. I’m glad you decided I’m not an abomination that’s going to hell. I’m glad you feel better about yourself because of it. But it doesn’t change much.”

“Do you still believe?” Alan asks him.

Jensen knows that Jared’s words have reached their mark, even if unintended. Part of him wants to shout no just to hurt his father. But Jared would know he is lying and he can’t do that. “I’ve always believed that God loves me as I am. Even when you couldn’t.”

“That He does,” Alan says. He looks up at Jared. “You, too, son.”

The perplexed look on Jared’s face is priceless. “Thank you,” Jared says and it comes out almost a question.

They walk Alan to the door. Jensen can see his dad itching to maybe hug him but that is not happening. “Your mother said it’ll take time and you know she was always the smart one.”

Jensen isn’t sure his dad will live as long as it might take but he doesn’t say it. When his father extends his hand again, looking at Jensen, it stays there untouched until Jared takes it briefly.

“You hurt Jensen,” Jared tells his father.

“I know,” his dad concedes.

“But you understand things better now. That’s good. I don’t always understand things. It’s taken me a long time with some things and my poppa had to be very patient.” Jared’s eyes meet Jensen’s and they are shining in the hallway light.

“Thank you, Jared. I’m very pleased to meet you finally. I’m sorry I didn’t come to the wedding.”

“You came today,” Jared replies.

The door shuts and Jensen leans back against it. Jared watches him silently. He wishes he could just close his eyes and nap, right there against the door. He knows he has to say something. Remind Jared that they need to talk.

The doorbell rings again. Jensen groans and wonders if his dad left something behind. Jared reaches to open it but Jensen gets to it first.

He can’t stop the words that burst from him. “You have got to be shitting me. Today is officially a nightmare. There’s no way this is real. I have to wake the fuck up.”

He looks over at Jared who is standing with his mouth frozen open.

“I know … I know … I suck,” Tom says. “I just came to apologize.”

**~ Jared ~**

_Maintain eye contact. Not too long or it looks aggressive. Inflect to make a point. Watch the lips for movement, down means bad, flat can mean neutral, puckered can mean unsure._

He’s trying so very hard to be ‘normal’ that his neck aches from the strain of sitting ramrod straight, not fidgeting or rocking, eyes on Tom. Jensen is angry, he’d know that no matter what because it’s Jensen, the one person on the planet he comes close to being able to read, and because Jensen’s voice is a scary growl, not like his usual richer cadence.

“Shit, that was your dad, really?” Tom is asking.

Jensen’s having none of it. “No way. We aren’t going into that, you don’t get to play concerned friend after the crap you pulled this morning. Hundreds of cell phones all waving in the air – what the hell did you think would happen?”

“Would it have been okay if it weren’t caught in a photo?” Jared asks. He’s trying to keep his voice modulated in an NT way, but he thinks maybe he whispered that.

“No, no of course not. I didn’t mean that. Jay …” Jensen trails off and turns back to Tom. “I’ve hardly been home, we haven’t even had a chance to talk. You could not have picked a worse time to finally discover an ability to feel remorse.”

Tom ignores Jensen and speaks directly to Jared. “Jensen really didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be mad at him.”

“I am not mad at Jensen,” Jared replies in what he hopes is an even manner. Tom, on the other hand, well, Tom kissed his husband and Jared has not been able to get the image out of his mind since first seeing it. A very strong part of him wants to kick the other man in the nuts.

His poppa taught Jared that even if it feels like someone deserves it, one should never hit anybody. For the most part, Jared has followed that rule. Back in high school, when the bullying was horrible, he’d lost his temper once or twice. He wasn’t as fit then as he is now, but he was a tall boy and caused some damage. It had come at a steep price because his parents had then insisted he attend counseling sessions and he hated those so much at the time.

Now, he is grateful for every seemingly useless NT trick ever taught him just to get through this unwelcome visit.

Tom is many things but stupid isn’t one of them. He ducks his head and looks at Jensen although it’s clear he’s answering Jared. “Yeah. Bet Jolly wants to deck me. Can’t blame him.”

Jared puts his hand out and physically holds Jensen back as he rises to stand menacingly over Tom. “You call him that one more time and the only fists you’ll have to worry about are mine!”

“Whoa, bud, c’mon, you know it’s said fondly. Heck, he and I are the same height.”

“Actually, I’m an inch taller,” Jared says, back of his hand still pressed against Jensen’s chest.

Tom eyes him up and down and Jared squirms under all the attention. “Yeah, and you hit the gym twice as much as I do, too. So, let’s all play nice, okay?” Before anyone says anything further, Jared notices Tom start fidgeting oddly and reach behind himself to pull something that had been buried in the sofa cushion.

His heart lurches as he sees the scrapbook. _No_. That was never intended for Tom to see, only Jensen. It was bad enough that he’d had to show Jensen but Jared didn’t know how else to start explaining his thoughts. Only now, after his talk with his old friend, everything is swimming in his mind and it feels like a kaleidoscope rearranging. He doesn’t know what the final image will be.

Jensen tries to stop the train wreck, ineffectually moving forward as if to grab the book from Tom’s hand, but it’s already open and Tom starts turning pages, cheeks rising in a smile.

 _A smile is a good thing_. Except when it’s really derision. Jared suspects he knows what Tom’s smile means.

“That’s mine. It’s private. Give it back,” Jared says. All attempts at inflection are gone and he knows he sounds as flat as a board when inside he is raging.

“Tom, please,” Jensen adds.

“Why does Clifford have a scrapbook of me?” Tom laughs, strong and hearty. Jared doesn’t think he’s ever laughed like that in his life. It reeks with confidence, and he’s still flipping the pages slowly, fingers skimming the pasted clippings. “I remember that,” he mutters and the corners of his lips rise again.

“Hand it over,” Jensen says, hand out. “You heard Jared. It’s private.”

Jared struggles to read his face, something like a glint twinkles in Tom’s eye. “You did say I turned you gay when we first met. Guess it was kinda literal, eh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jensen yells and Jared jumps back because Jensen so rarely raises his voice. His husband is so angry he’s shaking.

“Bud, c’mon, I’m teasing. Cripes, you used to have a sense of humor before …” Tom is still stroking the scrapbook’s pages. He wrinkles his brows and Jared is steadying his breath while trying to identify Tom’s expression … _confused?_ Most likely. Tom looks directly at him. “Why’d you make this? Didja have a little crush on me?”

It’s impossible to know for sure and certainly Tom could be ridiculing Jared, except Jared doesn’t think so, thinks maybe it’s a real question.

Jared has some real questions of his own to ask. He’s been too scared for years, convinced himself that there was a difference in not knowing something and something not being real. But now, he realizes that it always was the same thing.

“Did you kiss Jensen knowing it would be photographed? Did you want everyone to see it?” That isn’t really the question he needs to ask, but it is something he wishes to know.

Jared senses Jensen’s eyes on him but keeps his own gaze locked on Tom. Finally, the other man puts the scrapbook down on the coffee table. It’s still open and Jared can see the clipping about a rally Tom organized in Albany a few years ago, before New York voted for marriage equality.

“Nah. I just got … I dunno … after all the work, my emotions got to me. It didn’t mean anything though. Could have been the guy on my other side.”

“But it wasn’t the guy on your other side. It was Jensen.” Jared’s eyes dart to his husband, still the most beautiful person Jared has ever met. And Jared knows first-hand how it feels to think you are losing Jensen. He tells himself to man up.

“I believed you didn’t love Jensen. When you were engaged to him, I believed it was political. I didn’t understand marrying someone you didn’t love and I told Jensen that. But now I think maybe marrying the right person is more complicated than I realized.”

“Jay… God, please, let’s talk about this in private,” Jensen begs quietly.

Jared ignores Jensen although he knows intellectually Jensen must be upset. He only hears words, however. He’s not capable of picking up emotions, not when his own are so sharp they feel like coiled wires tightening in his muscles.

“I didn’t have a crush on you,” he explains to Tom. “I didn’t think of you in a romantic manner. I’ve only ever thought of Jensen that way. But I did think you were a hero. I keep many scrapbooks. It’s something my momma used to do and when she died I started to as well.”

Tom grins. “A hero?” He considers the notion. “To some, I guess.”

“You’re very strong. You survived great adversity and overcame horrible events as a child and teenager. My parents were always good to me. It’s hard for me to understand that all parents aren’t that way. Your book was one of the first times I realized there could ever be families that hurt each other. And you didn’t let it stop you.

“You pioneer. You lead and push and look forward. You don’t accept defeat. You want to be first.”

Jared shifts and stops talking to Tom and directs his words to Jensen. He’s too whirling with emotions to read Jensen at all, although his husband’s eyes are so very big and green in his face, they make him look pale.

“I can never be that, Jen. I will never be Neil. And four years ago maybe you made a mistake. I know you weren’t in love with Tom because you told me that. But what if he did love you? I can be rigid, think narrowly. What if I was wrong? What do people remember about the moon landing? The first thing they recall are those photos that Neil took of Buzz with the flag behind him. It’s about being there. I will never be there when history happens. And you … you deserve …”

“You. I only want you. Tom didn’t love me.” Jensen turns to Tom for confirmation but then immediately centers on Jared again. “It would have been a horrible mistake to marry him, just like you said. Because I was in love with you. I _am_ in love with you.”

“He’s right. I love Jen like a brother, always will. But it’s not like you two. I’m not cut out for the kind of Ozzie and Harriet set up you two have. Monogamy and all that. It’s not for me. Jen would never have been happy with me. He’s crazy about you. Dude, don’t let my one dumb moment ruin that.” Tom stands and he seems not to know what to do with his hands, shoving them in his jean’s pockets and then taking them back out to swing about. “Hell, okay, I did notice the cameras and thought it would be a hoot. I didn’t think, man.” Tom lets out a breath. “I’m sorry, Jen.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” Jared argues. “I’ll still always be Margaret.”

Jensen stares at him. “Who?”

“Margaret Hamilton.”

Tom’s eyes rove from one to the other. “The witch in The Wizard of Oz?”

Jared keeps his eyes on Jensen, focuses his thoughts and steadies his breathing to block out the million other stimuli fighting for his attention, because he really needs to _see_ Jensen. It works because Jared notices when Jensen blinks twice and his mouth gaps slightly before tipping into a crooked grin. Of course, he figured it out.

Jensen’s voice is soft. “She’s every bit the hero Neil was.”

“But very different,” Jared says because that’s the key. What if Jared did make a mistake by keeping Jensen for himself? What if Jensen would be better off living a different life?

“Guys, nobody appreciates going over the rainbow more than me, but why does Jolly think he’s the wicked witch? Or is this some roleplaying you’re into … kinky.”

“Not _that_ Margaret Hamilton,” Jensen says. “The one Jared means made the moon landing possible.”

“Never heard of her,” Tom says.

Jensen chuckles, but it’s bitter, without mirth. “I know.” He nears Jared and meets his eyes and Jared gets lost in the gold flecks that are sparkling in their depths. “And I wouldn’t have known of her either if it weren’t for you. I learned more from you in the four years we’ve been together than in the first thirty-three years of my life.”

All Jared can hear is the manic thumping of his heart. Jensen licks his lips and moves even closer and warmth radiates inside Jared like he ate a hot chili pepper. He stops caring how he sounds, whether he’ll come off as weird. The world narrows when Jensen looks at him like that, it brings his homing beacon to life.

“You should leave now,” Jared says, not even looking in Tom’s direction.

Jensen smiles. “Tom, you heard the man.”

“Yeah, geez, okay. Last thing I want to see is Jolly dressed in a witch’s hat. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing him riding—“

“Tom,” they both warn at once.

Arms up at his sides in obvious surrender, Tom heads back to the door. “Okay, I’m going.” He stops at the door and calls back. “Jensen, Cli—“

Jared and Jensen turn at once and glare pointedly at Tom.

“Jared,” Tom corrects himself with an indecipherable quality to his voice. “You two going to be alright?”

“We’re going to talk,” Jensen replies and it’s a testament to how much Jensen’s presence can overwhelm Jared because for a split second he forgets what they need to talk about.

**~ Jensen ~**

Jensen hears the door shut after Tom and waits, wondering if yet someone else will show up at their doorstep. He shuts his eyes because, God, all he wants …

Jared utters, “Jen” in a breathy voice.

The light from the outside streetlamps cast a yellow haze into the room and Jared’s eyes glow like burning honey. Jensen reaches up and cups Jared’s cheek, his fingers tingling from the stubble. It’s very unusual to find Jared not smoothly shaved, it’s not his way. But then again today has been a very unusual day.

“Please?” Jensen asks as he leans forward and brings his lips a hair’s breath from Jared’s.

Jared closes the distance and Jensen melts against the soft, warm press of Jared’s mouth. The kiss is chaste and so gentle it’s like a whisper against his lips. He turns his head minutely to slot their faces together better and rubs gently, closed-mouthed, letting texture and warmth and affection glide between them. Puckering, he places butterfly kisses all along Jared’s lips, allowing tiny smacks to escape as he shifts slowly. Jared has wrapped his arms over Jensen’ shoulders and returns the kisses, each tender and wispy, like a spring mist peppering his skin.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Jensen gasps. He feels Jared nod in agreement.

Reluctantly he steps back and puts a small distance between them. The separation makes Jared’s eyes clear. “We should talk.”

Jensen agrees but first admits he’s starving. They make grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate milk, not needing to speak as they efficiently move around each other in well-practiced steps, and then retreat to the old dining table. Jensen feels calm enough to eat now that they shared that kiss and are finally alone.

It doesn’t take long until the sandwiches are nothing but crumbs.

Taking the bull by the horns, Jensen goes first. “I think I’m going to stop apologizing.” At Jared’s puzzled glance, he adds, “Not because I’m not sorry about what happened, but because I think my apology is making it worse. I think it has you thinking there was something more in what happened with Tom. And there wasn’t. I was stunned by the decision and the crowd went nuts and he suddenly planted one on me and honest to God it just shocked me stupid for a second. But no more than that, because then I shoved him the hell off me. The camera didn’t capture me wiping my lips afterward or the ‘what the fuck’ that came out of my mouth or the way my heart felt like a sinking stone.

“Jay, you are it for me. I meant my vows more than I ever meant anything. And nothing is more important. All the Supreme Court decisions combined aren’t more important.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Lawrence v. Texas was pretty darn important.”

Jensen smiles because that’s the ruling that legalized same-sex sexual activity in every state. “Okay, maybe that one,” he concedes, still grinning although he quickly grows serious. “Even if we lived fifty years ago, and everything between us was considered illegal, I’d still want you, would still be with you.”

“Fifty years,” Jared muses. “Lawrence was decided in 2003. Hardly that long ago.”

“We’re lucky. _I’m_ lucky. I get to have you so freely, so completely, recognized everywhere. But Jared, it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want me, too.”

He’s hoping Jared will quickly reassure that he does want Jensen and so his heart lurches when, instead, Jared sits straighter in his chair and keeps his eyes on the painting above Jensen’s head.

Once more, Jensen tries to be the brave person that Jared can admire. “Okay, no hiding. You’re Margaret. Let’s get to how that isn’t absolutely perfect for me.”

“I didn’t really mean to equate myself with her. I was trying for NT-like analogies.”

“And you got it right on the first try, bravo.” Jared does not look amused. “Baby, how long have you been worrying about this? And I have to say, that’s really not like you.”

Jared shrugs, face a little pink. “I didn’t realize it. Not always so self-aware, you know that. Sometimes things sneak up on me.”

“Or hit you over the skull. Let’s not play it down. If I suddenly saw a photo of you kissing another man, it would cut deep.” He takes Jared’s hand. “And I am sorry. If there were any way for that not to have happened …”

“I know.” Jared squeezes his hand back. “I trust you. It just got me thinking about how normal that was for so many people. There was kissing going on all over. It was a kiss-fest.”

Jensen’s brow rises and he can’t help the grin splitting his face. “A kiss-fest?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Gotta say, I really don’t. So folks were kissing. And Tom decides it’s a good idea to get himself splattered all over the internet. How did we get from there to you questioning _us_?” And for the first time Jensen lets his own hurt out as his voice trembles with the question.

“Because I couldn’t be there. I can never be there. Crowds like that, it’s too much. I can’t … not even for you.”

“And I didn’t ask you to be there. You practically insisted I go … truth be told I should have stuck to my guns and stayed home where I belonged.”

“I don’t want my … being different … to stop you.”

Jensen feels frustration heat his face. They are going in circles and it isn’t the first time they’ve had a discussion like this one, although, this one is the most raw that Jensen has ever seen Jared.

“Without Margaret Hamilton, Apollo 11 would have aborted before landing,” Jensen says. He knows there are things that calm Jared, all things moon-related fall into that category. Besides, this all seems to hinge on this one slice of history. It’s real to Jared, so it’s real to Jensen.

“The 1201-1202 error,” Jared says.

Jensen nods. “Taught herself to program, coined the phrase software engineer.”

“You remember.” Jared’s eyes sparkle.

“Are you kidding? That photo of that small woman with the stack of computer readouts as tall as she is? It’s amazing. I remember you telling me about it, about her, like I remember everything you taught me.”

Jared continues the story. “She’s brilliant. Headed the software engineering division at MIT which developed the computer ultimately used on Apollo. But they had no room, had all these weight and size constraints. The computer that took humankind from the earth to the moon and back had no more memory than a Commodore 64.” Jared chuckles as he dives into his favorite topic. Jensen’s heard all this before but he never tires of Jared’s exuberance.

“She crammed all that function into that system. Her concept of priority scheduling let Mission Control and the astronauts power through the error. That’s because the software alerted when it was asked to do too much. It was smart enough to prioritize and take recovery actions. There’s no doubt the only reason they landed that day is because of that woman. Whose name most people confuse with the wicked witch.” Jared snickers at his own words.

“But you didn’t confuse her with anyone. Jay, I’m the one who was about to make the biggest mistake of my life marrying Tom. I’m the one that had my priorities totally out of whack. You … you were … _are_ my recovery action.”

Jared blinks and stares at him and picks up the nearly empty glass of chocolate milk to down the last drop. “That’s not … I wasn’t seeing it like that.”

“Tell me how you saw it,” Jensen urges.

“I’m in the background … not like Tom who is up front. Bigger than life, the center of attention. I can’t ever be that.” He puts the glass down with a soft clink. “But you are that, too. Important. You run the Arcus imprint and promote gay writers. Now you’ve brought that transgender author forward.” Jared runs his finger through the glass’s condensation. “I’m not saying this right. When they share their stories … they aren’t gay or bisexual or transgender or any label any longer. Like me, when I told my story, it’s not an Aspie’s story. It’s human. Do you know how important it is to let people tell their stories?”

“I do. That’s why I love my job. And my job is important to me. But not as important as you are. “

“With someone like Tom you can share the triumphs.”

Jensen places his palm over Jared’s on the table. “External triumphs. Jay, it’s meaningless without the internal code. The front people, the ones that get the tickertape parades, they serve as an external symbol. It’s through you that I learned to look behind the curtain.”

Jared smiles wryly. “A Wizard of Oz reference.”

The grin is contagious. Jensen squeezes Jared’s hand once and then rises from the table because while he’s fairly certain Jared isn’t planning on leaving him, he’s still concerned about Jared’s views on the differences between them.

He leaves the dining area and beckons for Jared to wait for him in their living room.

It takes standing on his toes but finally he reaches the box of photos that Jared stores in the bookcase of what was once his old childhood bedroom. A frown forms because he feels guilty. Jared likes putting photos in albums, keeping scrapbooks like his mom used to. He’s been waiting for Jensen to help create an album of their photos, told Jensen that his mother and father used to do it together and that watching them is a fond memory.

Jensen agreed but as ever, things, life, work got in the way and four years later the box is stuffed and no album exists.

Jared’s eyes grow wide as he spots the photo box in Jensen’s arms.

“Do you have a blank book?” Jensen asks, even though he knows Jared does. His husband keeps a few on the shelf, it’s his way.

A moment later Jared returns with an oversized album with a black leather cover. They all look the same, the albums. Older ones, that Jared’s mother maintained, have more colorful covers. But Jared’s are all the same, uniform black. It’s so very much Jared’s way of maintaining order.

“What are you doing?” Jared asks.

Jensen doesn’t reply and instead digs deep into the box pulling out photos from early in their relationship. Jared must have printed these out, and seeing how many there are spike Jensen’s guilt. Jared’s been waiting a very long time to organize these and it must have made him anxious.

The image in his hand is a candid of Jensen with his head turned toward Jared at a social event at work. Jensen’s gaze is nothing short of adoring and Jensen once more questions how stupid he was back then. He knows Sandy must have taken the photo.

“Look at me,” he mumbles at the photo. But then he looks up and catches Jared’s eye. “There never was a time I didn’t love you.”

Jared blinks rapidly and Jensen realizes where he came up with that sentence – it’s from what Jared had told him about John Glenn and his wife Annie. They’d met as children and Glenn never remembered a time he didn’t love her.

“Should John have married a woman better suited to the limelight than Annie?” Jensen asks.

Annie Glenn had a terrible speech impediment, stuttered to the point of not being able to speak. Jared had told him how difficult it had been for her to make public appearances. How strong she’d been and perseverant and how eventually she found a program that helped her.

Jared is staring wordlessly at him.

“Oh, baby,” Jensen sighs. “Don’t you know by now that you are my hero?”

He embraces Jared when he spots tears welling in his eyes. Jared clutches him hard. “It hurt,” Jared gulps. “Seeing you with him.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry. I love you, I love you so much.”

Jared sniffs. “I love you, too.”

It’s only a few moments later that Jared starts to squirm and Jensen eases his grip. He watches Jared’s calm return like a slow-moving tide. “We’re going to finally make our album?”

“Absolutely. Let’s select which photos you think should make the cut.”

They spread images all over the coffee table and laugh at memories and argue over whether Jensen looks ridiculous or not in various images. Not surprisingly, Jared looks gorgeous in every photo.

He’s still catching his breath from laughing when Jared touches his arm softly. “So … your dad.”

It was too much to expect that they wouldn’t talk about it, but Jensen had been hoping.

“What about him?” Jensen asks cautiously.

“He came to see you.”

“So?”

“Jensen …”

Jensen twists his lips. “Too little, too late.”

He sees Jared thinking of what to say, brows furrowed and eyes intense. “I know it’s not the same. You tell me all the time everyone’s parents aren’t like mine. But, Jen, part of what’s not the same is that your parents are alive.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t play the dead parents card to get me to give into suddenly forgiving him.” Jared blanches and Jensen immediately feels like shit. It’s his father, he turns him into something he’s not … he brings out the worst in Jensen.

“I’m sorry. God, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jared brushes his palm against his cheek briefly. “No. You shouldn’t have. But I forgive you because it’s the pain talking. Pain can make us do and say crazy things.”

“It’s too soon,” he tells Jared.

Jared nods. “Then it’s too soon.”

Releasing a wobbly smile, Jensen picks up a recent photo of Jared at a book signing. A young woman is leaning down into his space, Jared is glancing up at her through his lashes and has taken her hand with his left as he is signing. He’s still not comfortable with touch, but he forces himself during events because he’s learned how much his sharing means to others.

“Maybe eventually,” Jensen says, eyes still on the photo, thinking he owes his brave husband that much.

“I’ll be there,” Jared replies with certainty.

And that simple declaration really is all Jensen needs to think that maybe one day he can bring some sort of father back into Jared’s life. He knows that Jared would be first to say that anything Jensen does about Alan should be for himself. Jensen doesn’t lie to Jared but he knows himself, without Jared he wouldn’t go near his father. Only love teaches you how to forgive.

He draws Jared into a kiss, mouth wet and open as tiny flicks of tongue pulse between them. Passion simmers in a slow burn. “To the end of the universe,” he breathes into Jared’s skin.

Jared twists in his arms to pull Jensen closer, jolting the table. The photos scatter to the ground like fall leaves, temporarily ignored as new memories imprint over them.

**_fin_ **

Margaret Hamilton courtesy of NASA.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by borgmama1of5  
> Banner by apieceofcake


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